


a returned favor

by lovelyskies



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: (although nothing severe), Bedtime Stories, Comfort Reading, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27638056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyskies/pseuds/lovelyskies
Summary: A small smile hooks Snufkin’s lips, pulling slightly. “I listen more than I speak, as I’m sure you can tell. I try to make note of words, for they hold such meaning.” Just like that, the smile fades.  “I never had the chance to learn how to read words on paper, although.”An idea comes to him then, a brilliant, wonderful idea. “Maybe I could teach you?” The offer came easily - meaning nothing to the troll, not even thinking over it. But to Snufkin, it leaves him crumbling.When Snufkin looks into his kind, blue eyes, he knows his offer is genuine. Everything about the troll is genuine. And for some reason, that makes his heart shatter - as if everything he learned about people (how they could never do a thing for another person without some sort of reward) was a complete falsehood.
Relationships: Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 60





	a returned favor

Moomin makes a slow step from the window, his paw halting in the still air. It was an easy spring clean, brisk, with much time open to leave for thought. His friend in which he met three summers back, had come back early.  
  
They talked beside the fire, but Snufkin’s eyes were closed. His eyes would flutter like a hummingbird, before wincing shut. His small paws made work with his legs, before curling into a fist, holding onto the fabric as a lifeline.  
  
“I’m _fine,”_ he answered without a question being asked. One wasn’t needed, he could see it in Moomin’s eyes. Snufkin hadn’t the energy to make up a feeble explanation and felt like it wasn’t due. So they remained quiet, listening to the crackles of the fire.  
  
Sore, his feet must be, like Moomin’s heart.

* * *

In the bedroom, the morning’s sun peeking through the curtains, Moomin sorts his toys once more, before shoving the box under the bed. Better not to think of him.  
  
Better to leave him alone.  
  
But he _can’t._ Peering behind his shoulders, he sees the still empty section of his room - the section that held another bed. The bed Sniff slept during the winter, before (admittedly, rudely) replaced by Snufkin.  
  
Oh, how he leaped from that bed! Doing somersaults, of all things at the first hint of spring. Now, Snufkin is rigid, easily hiding his emotions. All in a few years’ time.  
  
Moomin’s feelings for him are complicated - on one part, he feels sorry for anyone to grow without parents. On the other, he admires the vagabond. Snufkin, still, as much as he has changed, shows more of him to Moomin than he shows to others. Moomin is unsure how to feel with that knowledge.  
  
When you’re young, little things make sense. Suppose that is part of the magic.  
  
Later that evening, after avoiding his friend completely for their sake, Moomin tiptoes onto the veranda - unable to wait any longer. Despite his caution, the screen door smacks shut behind him. He cringes, hoping that no one took the interest in his venture. Luckily, they choose to ignore it. He finds Snufkin as he left him, sitting on a log, poking the fire. He felt Moomin approaching, sending goosebumps rising on his fur. Yet Snufkin says nothing, finding greetings to be trivial.  
  
Moments pass. Then, Moomin points out quietly, “You’re in pain.”  
  
Snufkin turns his head, following the line of Moomin’s gaze to his foot. It lays extended, the heat from the fire numbing the throbbing heartbeat. He opted to leave it alone, too swollen to fit properly in his boots.  
  
“Pain helps us remember we’re alive,” Snufkin replies whispery, faint. More troubling than his pain, though, is his capabilities as a friend. During his travels nightmares of being replaced are common. A _good_ friend would stick with the other, assure them they mean well. Oh dear, he isn’t terribly good at this.  
  
My, what an incredibly intelligent thing to say. Moomin nods, letting what he said sink in, as he supposes he is to do. How he wishes to reply with something that would impress Snufkin as well. But knows that to be an impossible task. “What can I do?”  
  
Surprised by the question, Snufkin’s eyes only widened, still fixated on the orange flames. The only constant in the sea is _himself._ Never to rely on someone else for anything _._ Yet here is another creature offering aid, for seemingly no gain. “You’ve done plenty, Moomintroll,” he replies honestly.  
  
Moomin’s thick brows furrow - he hadn’t done a thing. Or so he thought. “Mamma usually wraps my ankles when I trip over myself.” Which is often, given their short stature. He kicks mindlessly at a pebble, feeling the rough surface roll against his soft pad. “I’m sure she has some.”  
  
“No.” He shakes his head, refusing to take a thing from them, to take advantage of their kindness. “I may steal, but not from people whose company I enjoy.”  
  
“Steal? You’re not _stealing,_ it’s for anyone that needs it.”   
  
Quietly, he responds, “Is that so.” A placeholder for a proper reply.  
  
Moomin isn’t sure what compels him to do so, but he reaches over and finds Snufkin’s paw, priding open his fist so he could hold his calloused palm, damp with sweat. No matter how hard the troll tries,  
  
Snufkin couldn’t be comforted, reassured. But at least this act eased his mind, at least for the moment.  
  
Wordlessly, Moomin stands and hoists Snufkin to his feet. Snufkin hobbles slightly, leaning his body weight onto his good foot as Moomin extinguishes the fire. They merely look at each other in the silence, features indistinguishable in the looming dark.  
  
Surprisingly Snufkin follows him home without a fight, or promises of _I’m fine._ Their paws remain interlocked, Moomin taking time to slow his pace to match the other. As they climb the stairs to his bedroom, Snufkin’s grip clenches Moomin, walking a bit unsteadily, a paw on the walls of the hallway to help balance.  
  
“I’ll be right back,” Moomin says, at last, letting him go at the door frame. Snufkin watches him disappear back down the staircase, standing dopily, before entering the room.  
  
It’s nearly exactly how Snufkin remembers it, those nights of waking up alone, cold, in a world still asleep. How the smell of mothballs and pine needles would fill his nose, wanting more than anything to crack a window and escape. (He also remembers how excited he was to get out of the room, surely doing something silly in the process). But these are different circumstances, not to be dreaded.  
  
So Snufkin wanders to the lone bed, paws roaming over the group of books sitting on top of the comforter. How he longed to hold a book in his paws, to feel the pages, follow along with the words.  
  
He’d only seen notebooks and diaries, nothing with a _story._ Travelers are never meant to be keen readers, rather, sharing their stories through word of mouth with whomever they may meet. For they could never carry such heavy items such as books. As of now, this is close enough, paws mere inches from their covers. He could admire their beauty and carry it in his thoughts. What more is there to ask for?  
  
Moomin returns not five minutes later with a tray full of medical supplies, grabbing each and every glass jar. Snufkin’s paw retracts hastily at once, eyeing the troll with large, nervous eyes.  
  
“I wasn’t sure what to get, but I brought some gauze. I think that’s what Mamma calls it.” He sets the tray down carefully on the nightstand, landing with the faintest _clunk_.  
  
“What does this say?” Snufkin asks, turning his head to the book with the watercolor cover.  
  
Moomin blinks, turning his attention to whatever his friend is looking at. “Oh, that? That one is called ‘The Princess and the Pea,’ have you read it?”  
  
He shakes his head, still examining the book. “A princess... Those are quite rare. It must be a fascinating story.”  
  
Moomin smiles giddily. At last, he had done something the vagabond has not! “You can read it if you’d like!”  
  
Snufkin’s face looks back at him with wonderment. “I couldn’t,” he mumbles, face flushing.  
  
“You must!” Moomin insists. He reverts his attention back to the tray, unlooping about half a foot of gauze. “You can borrow it, or read it now, either way, I don’t mind one bit!” He snips off the piece with a small pair of scissors, which he also borrowed from the first-aid kit above the stove.  
  
“That is very kind of you, however…” He bites his lower lip, taking a keen interest in the floorboards. “I don’t know how _._ ”  
  
The scissors clank audibly onto the tray, Moomin turning around swiftly. “You don’t mean...You don’t know how to _read?_ ”  
  
Snufkin’s face reddens more, his entire body folding inward.  
  
Moomin immediately regrets making such a fuss about it. “Oh, that’s alright!” he corrects with a wave of a paw. “Really, I just hadn’t known, is all. You’ve always had a way with words.”  
  
A small smile hooks Snufkin’s lips, pulling slightly. “I listen more than I speak, as I’m sure you can tell. I try to make note of words, for they hold such meaning.” Just like that, the smile fades. “I never had the chance to learn how to read words on paper, although.”  
  
An idea comes to him then, a brilliant, wonderful idea. “Maybe I could teach you?” The offer came easily - meaning nothing to the troll, not even thinking over it. But to Snufkin, it leaves him crumbling.  
  
When Snufkin looks into his kind, blue eyes, he knows his offer is genuine. Everything about the troll is genuine. And for some reason, that makes his heart shatter - as if everything he learned about people (how they could never do a thing for another person without some sort of reward) was a complete falsehood.   
  
Moomin approaches with the gauze, taking Snufkin’s paw in his own, before letting the fabric fall into his grip. Snufkin looks up. “I would like that,” Snufkin whispers, “more than anything.”  
  
As Snufkin climbs onto the bed, he is quiet - they both are. Moomin watches him shuffle to the back of the headboard, pausing before picking up the book. He extends his paw, to which Snufkin stares at curiously.  
  
“Trade?” Moomin asks.  
  
Two blinks until Snufkin understands. He then quickly extends his paw in turn, holding out the gauze and taking the book. Moomin grins, before hoisting himself onto his bed, rolling up Snufkin’s trousers.  
  
He chooses to ignore the feeling of his ankles becoming exposed to the air, rather, focusing on the feel of the book in his paws. The cover he saw beforehand, although now set with the knowledge of its contents - _a princess._ With anticipation, he opens the cover, letting it fall onto his knee. The first page is blank, for some reason unknown (maybe to put a name). So he turns the page, smoothing out the first of which there is ink.   
  
Who knew socks were such a potent thing! Luckily Snufkin is far too occupied to notice the crinkle of Moomin’s snout. Once peeled, Moomin lets it fall to the side of the bed, hoping the smell leaves with it.  
  
The jumble of ink merges together to form a stain of black, like small ants marching across the page. Snufkin lacks the expansiveness, the imagination to decipher the meaning of each marking. Moomin looks up from his work, seeing Snufkin’s eyes glaze over the page, not sure where to start. Once the gauze is securely pinned, Moomintroll rolls his trousers back down, before returning to his feet, joining the other in bed.  
  
“Here,” Moomintroll offers, holding his paw out.  
  
Snufkin sinks in the bed with the added weight, handing off the book hesitantly. He wasn’t given enough time to figure it out! A few more moments and he would’ve had it down.  
  
Moomintroll flips to the first blank page, reaching over to his nightstand to retrieve a dull pencil. “Take a look.” He begins scribbling what Snufkin can only see as nonsense. Nevertheless, Snufkin scuffles until their shoulders touch, looking down at his work.  
  
“This is the alphabet,” he begins, to which Snufkin huffs, meaning he knew what that means.”Each letter makes a certain sound.” He points the end of his eraser to the first letter. “Ah, can you say that?”  
Snufkin blinks, then recreates the sound, “Ah?”  
  
“Yes! That’s ‘A,’ like _apple_.” He writes the word down, underlining the capital A. “Do you get it?”  
  
“This is a lot of fuss.” He folds his paws over his chest, wishing he could pick up a book already.  
Moomintroll laughs, which Snufkin does _not_ appreciate. “Did you expect to learn it all this evening?”  
  
Snufkin chews his cheek, which means _maybe so._ “Tell you what, we’ll go over the alphabet, and then I’ll read to you. And, if you’d like, we can have lessons nightly?” Once offered, Moomintroll grew nervous at the silence. He hadn’t realized exactly _what_ he had proposed until this very moment.  
  
But, easing his nerves, Snufkin replies, “Perhaps.” Which isn’t a _no,_ but snufkins are known for never saying _yes_ outright _._ “And what sound does this letter make?”  
  
They continued through the alphabet, which, admittedly, took longer than expected. The moon hangs high in the sky, peeking through the curtains in which Snufkin snuck through. At the end of their lesson, Snufkin’s patience sharpened itself like a knife, frustration mounting inside. It would make more sense as they go, Moomin explained. That baby steps will do the trick.  
  
So he’s thankful when Moomintroll gives it a rest, flipping the page to the book itself. At last, Snufkin thinks.  
  
They rearrange themselves on the bed, although Snufkin still rests on his shoulder, listening to the gentle thrum of his heartbeat. He allows himself to sink into the mattress, falling asleep to Moomintroll’s voice.

* * *

Moomintroll was right - it had taken months of nightly studies to become proficient in reading. Now he lets Snufkin borrow books before he leaves, taking his lessons with him on his travels.  
  
If he is honest, Moomintroll wishes it took longer for Snufkin to learn. How easily he had gotten used to their nightly routines, taken away so easily. Now all that’s left is to _worry,_ to lay in bed and let his mind wander to the unknown. Moomintroll can’t sleep when he’s away - he has a schedule for when he wakes up to distract himself. Scrubbing the kitchen tiles, rearranging the spices. On bad nights he would walk along the side of the river that pools into the lake, where he could pretend he was living another’s life, perhaps one he read in his books. All to distract, force him into some sort of normalcy. So he wouldn’t carve away at himself, relieve his stress in the most destructive way. But tonight no trick in the book is working. His mind races with obsessive thoughts of _what-ifs,_ of worries that _could be_. Why did Snufkin have to be so far? Why did he have to put himself in danger? Does he not enjoy my company?  
  
At least the lessons made him feel _worth_ something, it gave him security.  
  
Moomin walks softly up the carpeted staircase, as quiet as he can, after placing the dishrag back on the counter, now spotless. He shuts the door. Then he stands at the sink, staring at the mirror, his paws gripping the porcelain. For a few moments, he remains still, contemplating himself.  
  
Snufkin isn’t sure what compelled him to visit the troll so late in the evening. He’d just return from his short trip, a trip he took on a whim. So much so, he hadn’t time to leave a note. Perhaps it’s guilt that pulled him to climb the ladder, to whisper against Moomintroll’s chest, _I’m here now. I’m sorry, but I’m here now._ _  
_  
So he drops his bag beside the bridge, letting the small light of his bedroom guide him like a lighthouse in the night. Up the ladder he climbs, pausing in front of the foggy window, using his sleeve to wipe off the dew.  
  
Moomintroll is always there. He always spent the night in his room, not having anyone to spend the night with. But now the bed appears empty, the sheets unfolded. With only slight worry bubbling in his chest, Snufkin pulls open the window, stepping inside carefully.  
  
Compared to the dark of the outside, the room is nauseously bright. For several, silent moments, he stands in the center of the room, looking around in folly, as if Moomintroll would be hanging from the ceiling like a spider caught in its web.  
  
When it becomes clear he isn’t in the room, Snufkin peeks into the hallway. And there he sees light emitting from underneath the bathroom door.  
  
“Moomintroll?” Snufkin asks, knocking on the door when there is no answer. “Are you in there?” Another knock, still no response. He places his ear against the wood, listening keenly to the water droplets. “I’m coming in, understand?” He pushes open the door slowly, the scene unfolding before his eyes. He finds Moomintroll on the floor, legs tucked up against his chest, floor covered in dandelion tufts of hair. The troll’s eyes are shut, pinched closed, and one paw clasped around his tail with intensity.  
  
All Snufkin feels is shock, too scared, confused to do anything, _say_ anything. Small scars and scabs cover the troll’s body where he had pulled and pulled until the hair gave way.  
  
Their eyes meet for half a second before Moomintroll looks away quickly, ashamed. A sigh leaves Snufkin’s tired lungs. These things aren’t rare. But they always leave Snufkin stunned, as he would spend the rest of the week’s nights restless. Running through the previous conversations, cherry-picking details to find something, anything, that could give him clues. Was there something he simply overlooked? What made Moomintroll do these things to himself?

“I should have called,” Snufkin murmurs.  
  
Moomintroll scoffs, fighting back the burning tears. How he has to worry relentlessly about his friend, hitching tents, conquering mountains, colliding with the most unsavory of thieves. And how Snufkin has to worry whether or not his friend would hurt himself. It humiliates him.  
  
“You shouldn’t have to go to town just for that,” Moomintroll sniffles.   
Snufkin treads cautiously to the troll, smoothing the fur on the back of his neck. He has visions of working out the troll’s aching muscles until they are as smooth as the floorboards underneath their feet. He would run his paws over the trail of scars and have them vaporized in seconds. All the evidence of misfortune and pain erased from his body. But the scars are there to remind him, evidence of times he wishes to forget.  
  
“Whatever it is we can work through together, you know that?” Snufkin eases himself down until he’s sitting on the tile beside him. Moomintroll avoids his looming gaze, unaware of the paw reaching for his. Like an elastic band, Moomintroll’s paw snaps back. Snufkin’s paw stays still for a few moments, before falling back down in his lap. “Tell me, dear troll, what can I do?”  
  
“Nothing,” he says softly, voice whispery and faint. “Although-?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Could you stay with me?”  
  
Without hesitation, Snufkin replies, “Of course.” They remain still for a few more moments before Snufkin stands, helping hoist Moomintroll to his feet. He looks around the room with a wince, with the mess he made. All the hair pulled from his body, his tail scatters with the movement. Snufkin pulls slightly at the paw in his grip, guiding him along. At last, Moomintroll gives.  
Snufkin brings Moomintroll back to his room, guiding him back to his bed. Moomin shakes as if chilled, pulling the covers up to his chest.  
  
“Would you mind if I read something?” Snufkin asks, bent over the bookcase, looking at the bottom row of books covered in cobwebs.  
  
Moomintroll blinks, then nods when Snufkin turns his head, still bent, his hair falling in front of his eyes. He recognizes the upside-down smile before it hastily turns. With one swift movement, Snufkin grabs the object of his desire. On the cover is a young girl wearing a blue gown, looking up at a cat in the tree, who smiles wickedly.  
  
The tip of his claw follows each word, pronouncing slowly and carefully. “Al..ice (he moves on to the next word) In W...onder…(another pause) land. Wonderland?” He looks up at Moomintroll. “What is that?”  
  
He smiles. “It’s a fictional place.”  
  
“Ah,” Snufkin nods, “this may prove to be troublesome. I have difficulties with real words, let alone those that do not exist. Why do they have to go and make it more difficult than it already is?”  
  
“Foul things, only out to get you,” Moomintroll hiccups a laugh, wiping away a tear that fell onto his cheek. “We can work it out together if you’d like?”  
  
The plan had worked for Snufkin. “I’d like that. More than anything.”  
  
Snufkin climbs on top of the bed, a bit unsteadily with the book in one paw. Moomintroll slips further to the left, allowing room for the other. With his boots hitting the floor with two soft _thumps_ , Snufkin guides himself under the covers, their sides rubbing.  
  
Reaching below, Snufkin finds Moomintroll’s paw and opens his fist, holding his damp palm in his own. Moomintroll squeezes back, leaving Snufkin surprised how strong his grip is, although making no note of it.  
  
“Shall we begin?” Snufkin asks as he flips open the first page, letting the book rest on his bent knees, pitching a tent in the blanket.  
  
Moomintroll lets his head fall onto Snufkin’s shoulder, closing his eyes as Snufkin begins.  
  
As before, Snufkin follows each word carefully with his digit, speaking so softly only Moomintroll can hear him.  
  
“Chapter one, down the...rab...bit hole.”


End file.
